Netherlands' scar
by Hanatamago2204
Summary: The story of how teenage Netherlands got his scar
How Netherlands got his scar.

* * *

The whole day he had been feeling on edge. Worried, troubled, chased. He supposed it had been because of the storm. But something inside of him whispered that it was not just the storm that was bothering him.

He had asked his brother and sister, Luxembourg and Belgium, about the feeling. Whether they felt it, too. Luxembourg had just shrugged and that had been the end of that. Belgium had pondered, eyes looking up to the clouded sky. Then she had smiled.

"I suppose I feel a bit ruffled by the storm, too", she had said. That was all she had commented, before she had gone back to feeding her cats.

So, he had stayed in his house, looking at the fire, trying to get over the feeling. Perhaps he should ask someone who had more experience?

All the way to Spain's castle, he felt as if he was being watched, as if hands clutched at his throat and wanted to drag him down. He couldn't breathe, he was sweating. There was pressure on his chest.

 _I can't breathe. I can't breathe._ He thought.

That's how Spain found him, a young teen, sitting in the middle of the road, trying to breathe in all the air around him.

"Hey, are you okay?", the southern country asked. Netherlands only shook his head. The brunet invited him into the house, supporting his back with his hands that were warm like his climate.

"You look like you have seen a ghost", Spain laughed when they were seated in the salon.

"Not a ghost", the teenage country said. "I just feel like a horse is sitting on my chest. Something is off, Spain. I feel like I am going to drown."

The panic in the blond boy's voice caught Spain's attention.

"I am scared, Spain. I can't swim. What if the dikes break?", he asked the man in front of him.

"Oh, silly Netherlands", the other retorted, smile back in place. "The dikes can't break. You have built them for years and years, your people are used to the weather, the storms, the rain. You can't drown, your people know how to handle a little bit of water. Don't worry too much", he said and ruffled Netherlands' hair.

"Really, Netherlands, do not worry about this. It is just a little bit of wind they have been mentioning, nothing big." Netherlands did not believe him, but he supposed the older country was not going to take him that serious today.

"So, go back home, drink some of your favourite coffee, eat something. Go to bed, read a book about knights, anything." He sent the younger one another smile and stood up, signalling that their little meeting was over.

Netherlands staggered out of the room, still feeling as if there was a barrel full of grain on his chest. It wouldn't go away for the rest of the night. All of the way home, he swayed from the left to the right, as if drunk. He was stopped a few times and asked whether he wanted to have some water. The mere thought made him want to run away.

Once back in the safety of his home, he calmed down a little. He managed to make himself a cup of coffee without dropping every ingredient and he sat down to read for a few minutes. But then the nagging feeling came back, when the storm picked up and the rain had announced itself with loud pitter-patter on the roof.

He decided to head to bed and retreat for the night. There wasn't much he could do for his people. As Spain had said, they had been through their shares of floods and dams that broke on points, so they knew how to prepare. He was probably overthinking and being too sensitive after a stressful period with Alva* and everything like that, he told himself.

Yes, there had been stormy years. His people had fought, rebelled, died. He hated Spain. He hated what his king had done to his people, to his land. How he had planted hatred and violence in the hearts of many. Yet he still had asked him for advice.

Netherlands grimaced as he pulled the covers closer, trying to shield his tired ears from the sounds of the storm. He didn't like the storm, the feeling of fear. Should the dikes break, would he not be able to safe himself, he knew.

Unlike other nations, he had never learned how to swim. Which was stupid, since he was a country close by the sea, filled with lakes and rivers that would overflow with the tiniest amount of rainfall. But no king or ruler had bothered to teach him. They all assumed he already knew how to swim. And Netherlands didn't bother telling them.

The last thought that crossed his mind before his eyes dropped closed and he fell asleep, was one of worry. What if no one would be able to warn his people when the water would come.

* * *

In his dreams, he followed a lone fisherman on his day out. They made their way out onto the sea at the break of dawn. It promised to be a good day, no rain or heavy wind. The sun was peeking over the horizon behind them, kissing the grass and cows that grazed there.

As the sun climbed higher, curious about what else happened below her, the fisherman's mood decreased. He had not caught anything all day and he was feeling lonely. Netherlands tried to talk to him, but the man didn't seem to hear him.

Suddenly, the fishing rod bent down heavily, the end nearly touching the water. The man needed all his strength to keep the rod from breaking or disappearing into the depths forever. When he pulled, Netherlands could see that whatever had caught itself on the hook of the fisherman, was heavy. Sweat formed on the plane of the man's forehead and his skin around his eyes wrinkled in effort.

Finally, Netherlands saw the glistering of scales just above the surface. It was a large fish, a lovely silver-blue colour adorning the many layers on its body. The country was shocked to suddenly see flesh appear from under the blue of the water.

The man could not believe his eyes either and he nearly let go of his rod. He cursed the holy mother and every deity he could name when he pulled the creature out of the water and into the boat. She was breath taking. Wonderful red hair, red as the sky when the sun was setting. Long and curling, like the waves that sat upon the surface of her home.

Her skin was light, light as thaw on grass in the morning. The fisherman blinked in surprise when she opened her eyes, silver like the moonlight. He spoke to her, and she responded back. Netherlands couldn't understand her, but the fisherman did. A smile broke through on his face and he grabbed her hand.

The man ridded her of the fishing wire and she smiled sweetly at him, before locking their lips and wrapping her arms around the man's neck. It must have been the fisherman's lucky day, Netherlands thought.

Suddenly, darkening clouds appeared on the horizon and the water around the boat started to bubble. White foam formed on the waves and the two creatures in the boat separated, scared by what was happening beneath them.

Another mercreature appeared from the depths of the sea. He was just as breath taking as the female, though his face was graced with a smothering glare.

His shoulders were broad, his hair black as the feathers of a raven. His eyes blue like the sky on a summer day, skin golden like the grains growing in the field.

"Let her go", he ordered, voice like thunder. "Give me back my love!", he demanded. The fisherman declined. He shook his head, grasping the female's hand again. She batted her eyelashes and smiled amused. She didn't seem to care about who took her with him.

The man in the water roared, splashing water with his large dark grey tail.

"Then you shall drown!", he shouted. "You, your family, your village, your animals. All of yours shall be taken into the sea. A fair price, for you have taken the most important thing of the sea." With that, he disappeared and the sea calmed again.

Netherlands didn't understand what was going on, but watched as the fisherman and the mermaid made their way back to the shore. Just before they arrived, dark clouds started to form at the horizon and the man worried.

"Don't worry", the woman told him. Her voice was like glass. "It will be fine."

The rain started to fall when they arrived at his home and Netherlands felt the wetness on his skin. First only on his hands….

He was startled back into the life he lived when he realised that he was actually feeling water on his hands. Sitting up, he looked around and realised that there was water everywhere.

Outside, the thunder roared, like the voice of the merman. Rain whipped against the windows, the wind shook the house he lived in. His hat floated by on the water.

Panic rose in his chest. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find somewhere higher so he wouldn't drown.

Bracing himself for the coldness of the water, he slipped off his mattress and walked to the window. Everything was pitch black outside and he heard the screams of people that had also woken up. A gust of wind hit him in the face after he had opened the window.

The rain felt like ice and he was immediately frozen to the bone. His fingers were scarping over the bricks of his house as he searched for something to hold onto. Finally, he found one sticking out just enough for his fingertips.

With a lot of effort, he climbed onto the roof. It was slippery, wet and cold. He didn't like the feeling. Nothing was visible around him, just the sound of the storm wreaking havoc and the people screaming in terror. A sudden flash of lightning lit his surroundings and he had to realise with horror that the water was everywhere.

People were being dragged away in the streams, cattle was trying to fight the pull of the water. There were some who had been lucky enough to find something to sit on that floated, some had climbed to their roofs like Netherlands had. It was horrifying.

Another flash of lightning, that made the water seem like a mass of grey that was slowly trying to eat everything around him. He was scared to death.

In another short moment of light, he saw a woman in the streams. She saw him too, and screamed at him.

"Help me, help me, we're drowning!" A slim hand reached out to him. In the next flash of light, he saw that she was pregnant. His instinct told him to save her.

Within mere seconds, he was at the edge of his roof. He extended his hand, reaching out to the woman that was still fighting the stream that tried to rob her from her life. She managed to hold onto it. Her fingers were icy cold.

Netherlands pulled, flexing his muscles. The rain poured down onto him, soaking him more and more and stiffening his muscles with the coldness. He couldn't hold onto her for long…

And then he slipped. The rain and coldness had turned the roof underneath him into an ice surface, slippery like one. He glided down, down, towards the wetness. He cut his hands when he tried to grab something so he wouldn't fall.

Cold. Water. Darkness. A lack of sound, the realisation that he should breathe. He couldn't see where he was going, what was around him. But he felt that he was moving. Something hit him in the head and he sank even lower. More water, more cold. He needed air.

He couldn't breathe. If he would breathe, it would be the end. Don't breathe, don't breathe…

He couldn't hold in his breathe any longer. His mouth opened and his lungs drew in. But instead of the much needed air, they filled with water. More breathing, maybe then he would find air.

More water. More darkness. This was how he would go? He would drown?

Something felt as if it was sitting on his chest, heavy. The lack of oxygen made him feel dizzy and his body nearly screamed for air. Then, everything turned black.

A voice calling out to him. Sweet, like honey. He tried to open his eyes. It took him once. Twice. Then, he could see the creature lurking over him, eyes silver like moonlight, pale skin like thaw on morning grass. Redness around her head, like the sky when the sun sets.

"I am so sorry", she whispered, letting her fingers ghost over his forehead. "I am so sorry for this. I am sorry that your people had to pay for my sins." Then, the darkness returned.

* * *

This story is based on the floods of 1570, where many dikes at the shores of the Netherlands broke because of the storm. Approximately 20.000 people died, including the deaths of Friesland in Germany.

In Zeeland, the southern province of the Netherlands, a part of the land was drowned by the water that is now a territory with brackish water. It's called _Het verdronken land van Saeftinghe_ and it's 3580 hectares (8864.3 acres) big. Legend says that the people of the town of Saeftinghe were very arrogant, which was a big sin. When a fisherman caught a mermaid and didn't want to return her to her husband, he cursed the man and the city to be flooded. Some say one can still hear the tower bells ringing and see white silhouettes, the ghosts of the people who drowned there, walking over the land.


End file.
